


Tattoo

by notjustmom



Series: Derisive [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Backstory, Gen, M/M, YOUNG LESTRADE, Young Mycroft, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-07 01:08:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6778864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What Mycroft did the day Greg's plane left him behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tattoo

**Author's Note:**

> This is also Chapter 5 of "Control" a collection of stories that I am writing with the amazing scrub456.
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/6737635/chapters/15398869

"I'm sorry, young man. That flight has already departed."

"When? When did it leave?" Mycroft was still trying to catch his breath, from running the length of the airport.

"Two minutes."

"Two minutes? Two fucking minutes?"

"Young man."

"Apologies, I'm sure." He turned away from the counter and found a seat. He threw his hastily packed duffel on the chair next to him, and buried his face in his hands.

"Fuck it."

Mycroft stood up and walked out of the airport and kept walking. He had no idea what he was supposed to do now. His best friend and lover was gone. Last night, he had given Mycroft a choice.

"Come with me."

"To Boston?"

"Please, Myc? It'll be an adventure. We can-"

"What? What can we do, you'll be doing concerts and traveling. What, am I going to wait at home, and be what, do what, exactly?"

"You could write that book of poetry you're always going on about..."

Greg had left a ticket and money for a cab on the bed for him, with a note.

Please, I can't do this without you.  
I love you.

-G

And it was over. The only person who had ever looked at him in that way, that way that made him feel he was the only other person in the world. When he played a concert, he would catch his eye and hold him, telling him he loved him through the notes that he played. Only a year, but, what a year.

Stop it. It's done. He could've waited, but he got on the plane without you. He's gone.

Before he knew it, he was sitting at a bar and ordering tequila. He never ordered tequila. He sat and looked at it for a moment before tossing it back. Ugh. He threw a note down, which was more than enough, and he walked out the door.

What now?

Tattoo Parlor...stupid idea...stupid...stupid...stup-

"Yeah, kid, what can I do for ya?"

"Can you do a violin...with the initials GL worked in somehow...right here?" Mycroft lifted his t-shirt and pointed to a spot on his lower back, where no one would ever see it. But he would know. He would remember.

"Lemmee sketch something for you..."

A couple of hours later, a bit sore and broke, he left the tattoo parlor without a pound to his name, but with a violin etched on his back, and the determination to begin the rest of his life tomorrow.

"Hello? Yes, this is Mycroft Holmes, and I'd like to schedule a time to be measured for a suit. Yes, it will be on my father's account. Tomorrow? Perfect."

 

It wasn't until years later that someone else saw the tattoo, that night of Sherlock's 'death' when Mycroft lost the will to carry on alone anymore.

"Myc? What is this?" Greg whispered, his voice trembling.

Greg had laid him down on his bed, stripped him of everything; his suit, his ego, his need to be in control, and had asked him to turn on to his stomach, then straddled his thighs and he was running his strong, gentle fingers down his spine. Mycroft had long forgotten about it, the tattoo had been the last spontaneous act of his life until that night.

"Oh, Gregory, I had it done the day you left. No one but you has ever seen it."

"It's beautiful..." He had leaned over and kissed it, and caressed it with his slightly calloused fingertips. "...just like you."

"Gregory, please..."

"Yes, Myc. Just promise me..."

"Anything, Gregory."

"Promise me, you won't ever let me go again?"

Mycroft rolled onto his side and looked into his detective's eyes and nodded. "I promise."


End file.
